The singing leaves

OTHERS.

Reading edition

NEAR AND FAR.

Near and far, near and far,

All the lights were keeping

Quiet watch with lamp and star,

While the roads were sleeping.

And I saw, far and near:

Starlight overhead;

While a woman’s shadow, here,

Made to-morrow’s bread.

Near and far; and I forgot

Stars must needs be small:

Lamp and shadow, knowing not,

Did so fold them all.

FRIENDS ALL.

Little Kathleen, when I was ill,

Offered the mass for me;

And burned a holy candle, too

As white as wax could be.

Little Kathleen, I think of her,—

It may be once a year,—

When houses sweeten with the fir

And bells ring out good cheer!

Hejà! But it is good to live

And walk brown earth once more;

And good to hear your fingers knock

At some familiar door.—

And O, to see them all again,

To see them,—though they say,

‘And did you take a journey, then?

And were you long away?’

O, did you take a journey, then?

And were you long away?

VANTAGE.

The wisest finding that I have

Is very young, no doubt.

Yet many a man must needs grow old

Before he finds it out.

How happily it comes about—

And I was never told!—

That we must all be young awhile,

Before we can be old.

A SONG OF SOLOMON.

King Solomon was the wisest man

Of all that have been kings.

He built an House unto the Lord:

And he sang of creeping things.

Of creeping things, of things that fly,

Or swim within the seas;

Of the little weed along the wall;

And of the Cedar-trees.

And happier he, without mistake,

Than all men since alive.

God’s House he built; and he did make

A thousand songs and five.

COUNSEL TO BEGGARS.

O, came you by the same road too,

The road that called to me?

And fellow-farers, will you learn

What shelter there may be?

There’s daybreak there to fill your heart

Red wine for half the way;

And gold there is of sunset, then,

To last another day.

(And fill your pockets with the same

Altho’ your need be small.

Take all the bounty while you may,

To have some wherewithal.)

And if you see the new moon,

I bid you tell the news,

And lend the slender silverness

For other poor to use.

82And if your heart be sudden light,

And yet you know not why,

I counsel you to hold the joy;

Let pride of woe go by.

And if your feet be wearied out,

And you would rest therefore,

Seek out some house; but look you leave

Your sandals at the door.

For you shall find—tho’ sad to find

Where houses be so few—

Your too-much sorrow irks a friend,

If ever it irkèd you!

Take heart. And if the open air

No shelter seem to be,

Yet there you shall—and only there—

Have all that you can see.

THE TWA CHEERLESS.

Eh, is there nothing doing?

Then give your soul good heed;

And show yourself the miracles

That you would like to read,

As long as you’re in need.

And then suppose I sing myself

—And if you will, give ear,—

The very song I never heard,

But I would like to hear:

And this, man, will be cheer!

THE WALK.

We left the house, for we were sad,

To talk of all the griefs we had;

And little did we talk at first,

Leaving to silence all the worst.

The rain it rained and star was none;

The wet made two lights out of one.

And broken paths of shining yet

Made on before us, through the wet.

The more we walked and still would walk,

The less did seem the need of talk.

The more we walked from light to light,

The wiser grew the troubled night.

The tacit lamps proved something clear

As often as one stayed to hear:

85And better ways, and endless clews

Dawned with the lengthening avenues.

Till where the street-ends met the square,

We found a thousand tulips there,

Sleeping as flowers sleep o’nights,

Beneath a thousand city-lights.

And then the Bridge from shore to shore

Solved everything forevermore,

So clearly, you could leave the Why,

Contented, to some by-and-by.

And time, and grief, were worn away

Till there was nothing left, to say.

REFRAINS.

‘I love all the world to-day!’

That is very young.

‘So I sing, the while I may.’

All the songs are sung.

‘God would never say me nay.’

Heed the foolish tongue!

‘There’s a singing in the tree,’—

All the songs are sung.

‘Nightingales! Oh, could it be?’

Heed the foolish tongue!

‘And the new moon smiles at me.’

Ah, the moon is young!

OUTSIDE THE MUSIC.

Now they come, and now they stop,

Now they all go in.

Now the coaches drive away;

And now it must begin.

All their faces looked the same,

Every time before.

If I heard it, I should know

More and more and more.

If I heard it, I would sing,

When I went away.

I would sing it till I grew

Beautiful, some day.

O, I hear a whiff of it;

There’s another one;—

And the coaches driving up,

After it’s begun!

THE FAIREST.

The fairest thing that men have made,

My lad, it is a Ship,

O, beautiful beyond the white

Wild bird she would outstrip!

So beautiful, so beautiful,

A heart must leap to bless,

And after her the wake of foam

Stay white with happiness.

And fairer than all things beside,

My maid,—a Violin;

Nay, aught that will give out again

The music hid within.

Or pipe or string or hollow shell,

It breaks enchanted sleep,

To win awhile the faëry heart

Of air that none may keep.

89But all of you who may not go

To sail upon the sea,—

Who wait upon another’s whim

For hope of melody,—

Oh, bless your hunger and your thirst,

And give your spirit wings

To speed beyond a narrow door

The heart that sails and sings!

THE CHILD AND THE ANGEL.

Oh, is it you at evening,

And near enough to speak?

And early in the morning,

Your breath upon my cheek?

And when the city noises

Turn into clouds that sing,

Is it your veil around me,

Of hush, and wondering?

And is it you, at sunset,

Who beckon me apart

Till I am something golden,

With petals in my heart?

Ah, Dearness, somewhere over!

A happy child is this

That with shut eyes uplifted,

Waits for you with a kiss.

READING FOR THE POOR.

Young Pity passed us in the street.

Her eyes were like a brook;

And golden leaf and shadow bird

Darkened and lit her look.

Her hair was like the meadow-marsh

That reaches to the sea;

And on her cheek a wild-rose glowed,

The timely rose for me!

Young Pity never knew the word

She gave to men in need,

All clear and simple, in her face,

For working ones to read.

THE BLIND ONE.

O hide your eyes, my maiden,

And tell your heart to hush;

For love is very bright to see,

And louder than a thrush.

And all adream you wander

Alone in crowded ways,

Where eyes of all the fools and wise

Do follow, wide agaze!

Yet all in vain, my maiden,

To shadow eyes like these;

They shine behind your fingers

Like starlight through the trees.

So dream and shine among us,

Unwitting of the boon,—

How all the eyes, of fools and wise,

Are grateful to the Moon.

HOLIDAY.

When I am far from joy of this,

In yon thick world of men,

O, save me—save me, world of blue!—

That I shall thirst for then.

And when the little strength is spent

And little hope burns low,

Blow softly on that tortured flame,

—Fresh air from long ago!

THE FOOL.

O what a Fool am I!—Again, again,

To give for asking: yet again to trust

The needy love in women and in men,

Until again my faith is turned to dust

By one more thrust.

How you must smile apart who make my hands

Ever to bleed where they were reached to bless;

—Wonder how any wit that understands

Should ever try too near, with gentle stress,

Your sullenness!

Laugh, stare, deny. Because I shall be true,—

The only triumph slain by no surprise:

True, true, to that forlornest truth in you.

95The wan, beleaguered thing behind your eyes,

Starving on lies.

Build by my faith; I am a steadfast tool:

When I am dark, begone into the sun.

I cry, ‘Ah Lord, how good to be a Fool:—

A lonely game indeed, but now all done;

—And I have won!’

DRUDGE.

I waited long until the sky

Should give me of its blue

To weave and wear, and share, and weave

The very stars into.

The days they went, the years they went,

And left my hands instead

Another thing for wonderment,

—The mending, and the bread.

Ah me, and one must set a hand

To burnish up the task,

And hush and hush the old demand

A wakeful heart will ask.

But with a star’s clear eye on me,

O, I can hear it said,

‘What souls there be, that only see

The mending, and the bread!’

THE YOUNGEST DRYAD.

What were you seeking? For my heart

Woke at your step and heard;

The farthest wakeful leaf of me,

And the hidden nest of the midmost tree

Hushed with its hidden bird.

Ah, but the rune imprisoned me

Till you should speak one word.

Why did you think the spell that drew

Fell from the cedar there?

You questioned pine and sister pine,

Lingered near ash and wild-grape vine,

—Doubted the maidenhair;

Ever you missed these eyes of mine

Too like the twilight air.

The Sun may call the dew to him,

The waters call the deer;

But O, my roots bind every limb

98To hold me hid, apart and dim

And silent, and so near;—

And every leaf of me abrim—

With that you shall not hear.

COME BUY!

The flowers knew her through the frost,

Their own true-lover.

Rose crowding rose, the color crossed;

The silver breath could hover

Near and far, poor lover!

They wondered at her through the pane,

And through December.

And then she went her way again,

—Eyes trying to remember.

Have your day, December!

100

PRINCE CHARLIE.

O had you died upon the field

That was so grim to plough,

The tears had blinded every eye

That sharpens on you now.

For death had been a glorious gift,

With all you had to give,

And kinder than we stay-at-homes;

But ah, you had to live!

101

THE MEETING.

‘Good-morning to you, then.’

(O stricken heart of her!

Silence, silence, breathe for me

A little breath of myrrh.)

‘And so good-by again;

Good-by, if you must go.’

(Go after, little shade of me,

And tell her that I know.)

102

THE COBBLER.

A little cloud in a golden veil

At setting of the sun:

And I a cobbler working—working;

Work is never done.

A little cloud in a golden veil;

And I am mending shoes,

Never a feathered sandal thing

Such as a cloud may use.

A little cloud in a golden veil,

Along the bright highway:

And but for her, to-morrow were

Another yesterday.

And this will stay, tho’ she melt away

After the moon sets sail.

For no man’s sky is always gray,

—Cloud in a golden veil.

103

MIRACLE.

Love came by in bitter need.

Oh, but I was sad!

Love stood by in bitter need,

And I nothing had.

Empty were the hands I held

Silently to Love.

Empty, as my heart of words,

Stared the sky above.

Lo, Love took—and thankfully—

All my wish for true;

Then my hands gave back to me,

Full of kisses too.

104

OPEN HOUSE.

My home is not so great;

But open heart I keep.

The sorrows come to me,

That they may sleep.

The little bread I have

I share, and gladly pray

To-morrow may give more,

To give away.

Yes, in the dark sometimes

The childish fear will haunt:

How long, how long, before

I die of want?

But all the bread I have,

I share, and ever say,

To-morrow shall bring more

To give away.

105

O SLEEP, SLEEP, SLEEP!

Do not dream of me.

Nay, without mistake,

Even for love’s sake

And all heedfully;

Do not dream of me.

All day long am I

Leal to all you ask:

Wish and care and task,

Every need come nigh;—

Still to serve and try.

But with my Good-night,

O unrippled sleep!

What is here, should keep

This bewildered light

From its skyward right?

106Let me feel no need;

Not a love that clings.

Let me have my wings;

Love my wings indeed:

Give my wings godspeed!

Do not dream of me.

Waking, I’ll be human;—

Call it child or woman.

Sleeping, I would be

Only Something Free.

107

THE CLOUD.

The islands called me far away,

The valleys called me home.

The rivers with a silver voice

Drew on my heart to come.

The paths reached tendrils to my hair

From every vine and tree.

There was no refuge anywhere

Until I came to thee.

There is a northern cloud I know,

Along a mountain crest.

And as she folds her wings of mist,

So I could make my rest.

There is no chain to bind her so

Unto that purple height;

And she will shine and wander, slow,

Slow, with a cloud’s delight.

108Would she begone? She melts away,

A heavenly joyous thing.

Yet day will find the mountain white,

White-folded with her wing.

As you may see, but half aware

If it be late or soon,

Soft breathing on the day-time air,

The fair forgotten Moon.

And though love cannot bind me, Love,

—Ah no!—yet I could stay

Maybe, with wings forever spread,

—Forever, and a day.

109

THE RAVENS.

My eyes are blind with dust;

My limbs are dull with pain:

But my body shall up and after me,

Again—again—again.

They hover and wheel above.

Where I creep on, they fly;

And with their call and vaunt of life,

They tempt my soul to die.

And the numbness of my heart,

The length I have to go,

The dimness of my starving sight,

They know, they know, they know!

But the little spark I hold

Shall light me farther on

After the gleam—like a far-off stream,—

Until that, too, is gone.

110Mirage—mirage—mirage!

But I say, I will not die

For the hoarse Despairs that wait, that poise,

—And I creep while they do fly.

No wonder they stoop so low;

And no wonder they should scoff

With Ah and Ah!—and beak and claw,

As they let me beat them off.

For there is no path to see.

But after the vanished flag

My soul has gone; and after me,

Body must strive and lag.

Up with you,—follow; come—

Whither my face is set.

They would have us dead: but I have said,

Not yet,—not yet,—not yet!

111

NEIGHBORS.

‘Who found for you the waters that soothed your heart-break first?’

‘Oh, who but these, my Sorrow, my Hunger and my Thirst!’

‘Who made your eyes the wiser to hail the farthest star?’

‘Who but my Dark I thanked not,—the Dark where no lamps are!’

‘And I come singing, Neighbor, to tell you, where you grieve.

And though my song bled, bled afresh,—yet would you not believe.’

112

THE MORNING SOUL.

O little cripple, with the lovely eyes,

What have we done to thee?—

For all our wisdom, putting out thy gleam,

Crying, ‘Thou seest not, it is a dream!’

Against thy cry, ‘I see.’

O little cripple with the lovely eyes,

What have we now to show?

With vext perpetual ways past finding out,

Teaching thee well the hundred things of doubt,

Who saidest once, ‘I know.’

O little cripple with the lovely eyes,

That music of the Sphere

We only sought to bind for thee secure

Some day, if it were true, for thee too sure

Rejoicing with, ‘I hear!’

113O little cripple with the lovely eyes,

Flower of the broken stalk,

Have pity on our need, for it is sore,—

Of thee, thee only,—thee to go before;

Rise up, rise up, and walk!

114

THE HILL-TOP.

‘Look down upon thy grief.’—O heart of mine,

That path alone climbed here!

‘Look down upon thy fear.’—O heart of mine,

That cloud-shadow, my fear!

‘Look down on thy desire.’—And could it shine,

That sorry fallen ember?

‘Ah, in the valley yonder, child of mine,

Wilt thou remember?’

115

THE DOVES.

The doves fly out, the doves fly in,

Brighter than cloud above,

From thee to me, and again to thee,

Out of my heart, O Love.

My heart is troubled and hushed with wings

From the deep, beneath, above;

And the hovering flight of more white things

Than Earth hath the gladness of.

After one call they follow, all;—

Thy call to me, O Love:

Lightning out of the blue, but mine

In the likeness of the Dove.

116

FOUND.

O, when I saw your eyes,

So old it was, so new, the hushed surprise:

After a long, long search, it came to be,

Home folded me.

And looking up, I saw

The far, first stars like tapers to my awe,

In the dim hands of hid, benignant Powers,

At search long hours.

And did they hear us call,

That they have found us children after all?

And did you know, O Wonderful and Dear,

That I was here?

117

ALL HAIL.

O, Blessed of the dark, we meet along an unknown sky;

And here within the light of you, how beautiful am I!

The other worlds are dim around, beneficent with night.

But I—I turn my face to you, and have no other sight.

So poising radiant, strong with joy, in desert air divine,

One star doth to another call, and we belovèd shine.

We shine transfigured, shine, to know beyond all hope made wise,

The echo, echo of All Hail, from new-illumined eyes.

118Who know not what your glory is, nor why my looks are bright,

I lean to you, I call to you, I shine with you, my light.

119

THE ANOINTED.

I was a little gleaner

Of all the days would yield,

When wonder overtook me

At work within the field.

The stars they gathered round me

Holding their torches high.

They cried, ‘Behold the chosen!’

And it was none but I.

They hailed me royal, kindred,

And made me understand

With gifts of light and darkness

They gave into my hand.

And here the wonder holds me

Though voices all are gone,

Here in the brimming silence,

With this to think upon.

120The kiss upon my forehead

Forevermore is mine.

The sweetness fills my heart up;

The tears make all things shine.

121